Un Poco Mas Beisbol

Davies only made it five innings (pitch count got high), but he did manage to only allow five hits and three walks, which is better than I'd expected, and he limited the Indians to one run--a questionably earned run at that. All in all, the outing was encouraging.

I know TPJ has been absolutely abysmal at the plate, but it is rough seeing Esteban Callaspo (they're essentially the same player, aren't they?) manning short.

Mahay worked a 1-2-3 top of the sixth to hold the three-run lead the Royals built up in the bottom of the fifth. Will tonight be the night, Neil Young?

Quick break from Royals talk...

Jacoby Ellsbury seems to be every bit the player that he looked like he could be last post-season. He's got seven steals this week. He's already got 26 through 51 games. Oh, he has been caught twice though. If the Sox could just get rid of Crisp and get him in the lineup absolutely every day, he'd lock down Rookie of the Year honors by mid-July.

Back to the Royals...

Peralta comes in with one out and one on in the top of the seventh to go full on the fearsome Jamey Carroll, giving me the feeling certain deflation, eventually walking him on a borderline pitch, putting the tying run at the plate. I smell a game-tying three-run shot off the bat of Ben Francisco.

Pop up in foul territory. Praise be to Allah.

Homerless V-Mart comes up. Joel still in the game. Botched pick-off catch by defensive replacement TPJ at second. Pop up to Guillen. Lead preserved. Hope not yet dashed. Can it happen?

Buck, TPJ (actually getting a good swing on the ball for once), and Gathright (on a bunt) all pop out, making for a very short and easy inning for the large C.C. Sabathia.

Soria coming in for a two-inning save. Hillman clearly wants this win.

Juh-honny Peralta singles up the middle to start the top of the eighth. Can things be so bad, that Soria actually blows the save? Passed ball. Peralta to second standing up. No outs. Please, Jesus, let Joakim take care of these Clevelanders. Guillen tracks a well-hit, slicing fly ball towards the left field corner. One down for Filthy Abe. Pop fly to shallow center. Gathright loses it. Defensive replacement Tony Pena, Jr., misses the catch by about two inches. Runners on the corners. The Royals look to be doing everything in their power to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Walk to Blake. Bases juiced. Unhittable Soria who'd entered the game with a BAA of .100 has loaded the bases and has one out. Delucci's up. The world seems to be ending. Where are you when we need you L. Ron? Grounder to Teahen. Only play at first. Jhonny scores from third. A rare earned run (what the hell are you doing official scorer??? two questionable non-errors?) for Joakim. Pop up. TPJ can catch a pop up after all. Disaster averted. Too much happened for me to convert to Scientology, though.

Bottom of the eighth, C.C. still in the game. Yet another 1-2-3 inning for Sabathia. Thanks for the insurance, guys.

Soria taking the mound again. Hasn't blown a save all season. Is Vishnu watching over the Royals? Carroll looks foolish at the plate. Maybe Soria got it back. Francisco pop up to shallow right. Vishnu! Vishnu! Vishnu! V-Mart rips a single past Teahen guarding the line at first. Way inside to Jhonny. I wonder if this is the first time Joakim has faced the same batter twice in a game. I'd imagine it is. Wild pitch. Buck can't find the ball. Slow Victor only advances to second. Grounder to TPJ.

Hinduism it is.

Mas Beisbol

I am sorry in advance for the fact that this is yet another baseball-centric post, but sometimes dems da breaks, ya know?

Anyway, I think anyone in Cincinnati is thinking that my boy, Jay Bruce, is the cat's pajamas. Seriously. He has been killing the ball. He hit a walk-off in his fifth game (his first major-league home run). He's now hitting at a lean .579 clip--and no, that's not his slugging percentage, or even his on-base percentage, that's his batting average through his first five games. To go with that ridiculous average in his extremely young career, he's scored eight runs, driven in four, drawn five walks, stolen two bases, and struck out exactly once. I guess one could call that a hot start. One could also ask why Corey Patterson was sitting there in the lead-off spot and Bruce's rightful position in centerfield. One would probably be right to do so.

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So Billy Butler got demoted to AAA a few days ago, which may be slightly discouraging to Royals fans, but I think it's probably the right move. He's looked absolutely lost at the plate and would more than likely be afforded the chance to get his head straight. He's too important to the future of the franchise to not handle with care.

In other Royals news, Tomko was (deservedly) demoted to the bullpen. Replacing him today was Kyle Davies, having gotten called up after tearing apart AAA hitting at Omaha. I know much of the Royals fanbase (at least over on the Kansas City Star discussion board) is really not fond of Davies, but I personally think he has the stuff and make-up to be a serviceable fifth starter if not more than that. And the kid's only 24 years old, which to me is much too early to give up on a pitcher.

Oh. In case you were curious, yes, the Royals are still mired in this awful losing streak. When it started, they were one game under .500. They've since lost, what, twelve straight? Will it ever end? Sometimes I wonder...

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I've heard from a few sources now that the new Indiana Jones movie was not especially good. By not especially good, of course, I mean it was an utter mess. I'll surely see for myself soon enough. Can it piss me off more than Pirates 2? Only time will tell. Stay tuned reader.

Jesus Christ...

Up five runs.

Two outs in the top of the ninth.

Five runs score?

Lose in extras, essentially because Soria isn't available to get one out, since he went two last night in an extra inning game.

An eight-inning 3 ER start from Greinke gets completely wasted. Eight runs scored get wasted.

This is just going to go on forever, isn't it?

Fuck.

The Next Big Thing

Jay Bruce made his major league debut last night. Quick breakdown of what he did is as follows:

3 - 3, 2 singles, a double, 2 walks, 2 runs, 2 RBIs, and a stolen base

While the Reds sent Hatteberg packing (Votto seems to have established himself well enough to lay claim to the first base job), it was Corey Patterson who was not in the lineup. Now for as much hemming and hawing from Reds management as to why Bruce was still murdering the ball in AAA (Griffey), the real problem--as I had stated was Corey Patterson--found himself on the bench last night, and apparently got booed by the fans in Cincy. Go figure.

Welcome to the Bigs, Jay. We're (read: I'm) glad to have you.

"I'm a pimp, and pimps don't commit suicide."

Royals things first, and then I'll get to the heart of this post (and the quote for the title).

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As I was working out at the gym and glancing up at the scrawl on ESPN, I saw that the Royals were down 3 - 0 and knew that this game had to be over. These Royals are not a team that comes back to win. It really just seems that if they don't jump out with a quick lead, they cannot win. Now, I could look at box scores to back this gut feeling up, but I don't have that kind of time (eating and drinking beckons). It really just feels like once the Royals find themselves behind, no matter how much their pitching keeps them in the ballgame, they do not have the firepower to dig themselves out of any kind of hole.

Then I get home, check my fantasy team, and see that the Royals are in the 10th having drawn up to a 3 - 3 tie behind a Teahen three-run, inside-the-park home run. Now they may or may not win this ballgame, but they proved my gut feeling wrong one time. Hopefully, they can prove that they can win a ballgame or two.

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Now hopefully (for you), the quote in the title is unfamiliar. If it does ring a bell, I'm sorry. That line is said not once, not twice, but three times in the most incomprehensible film ever made. Based on what the filmmaker said, this was a film that was supposed to be all things. Comedy. Thriller. Satire. Action film. What it ends up being is an utter piece of garbage.

The 'it' of which I speak is Southland Tales, and trust me, you do not want to see it.

Going in, the Old Lady, J-Bone, and I knew that we were about to watch a movie that was reportedly bad. That being said, I think we all were fairly open-minded and were expecting to find at least a few redeeming qualities. What we were treated to was essentially what would happen if Brett Ratner's ambitious, half-tard brother made an homage to Brazil. A disaster.

And all of us liked Donnie Darko. Sure it was convoluted and had some plot holes, but it was still enjoyable at the very least.

Southland Tales is anything but enjoyable. It clocks in at 2:15 (maybe more, my brain was hurting a lot by the time the movie was over), and I can safely say that there was only one scene that was actually good--and the faux domestic disturbance between Wood Harris and Amy Poehler was hilarious only because of my boy Avon Barksdale's gesticulating. The rest of the film is basically a series of events that take place involving characters leading up to this huge explosion, only there is absolutely no tension, and even if you are following what's going on and can makes sense of it there is simply nothing of any interest whatsoever.

I wanted to walk out of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 after about half an hour. I wanted to shoot myself after about fifteen minutes of Southland Tales. I guess I wasn't much of a pimp.

But I did finish the piece of shit, so I guess there's that.

Dire Straits

No, this will not be a post professing my undying love for all thing Mark Knopfler. This will, however, be a post reflecting on the terrible times Royals Nation finds themselves in. They were just outscored 23 - 4 in a four game series with the Blue Jays; and while I'd be the first to admit that the Jays have a formidible pitching staff (I do, after all, proudly own both Halladay and Marcum in my life-consuming keeper league), 23 - 4 is completely unacceptable. They've been swept by Boston and Toronto in successive four-game series--both teams appearing to be much better than the Royals in the process. Trey Hillman had to sit the team down before the game with a closed-door meeting, electing to skip batting practice.

Now they take on the Twins, and while it may seems as though facing the trifecta of Nick Blackburn, Livan Hernandez, and Kevin Slowey could be what they need to break free from their worst stretch of this still young season, it could be that this season finally seals the season as being finished. Before their flight to Boston, the Royals sat a game under .500 and 2.5 games out of first. Now they're half a game behind Detroit, occupying the familiar cellar, facing the lower end of a divisional rival's rotation (neither Blackburn nor Hernandez possess WHIPs of less than 1.41, and Slowey has not been lights out by any stretch of the imagination, having given up 3 ER in each of his starts leading up to his last one, where he shut the mighty Tigers down for six innings).

Maybe the friendly environs of Kaufmann Stadium will wake their bats from their seemingly season-long slumber, and the Royals will take the series, regaining some confidence and momentum. But if this eight-game losing streak extends to eleven games and beyond, hope for competing would seem to have evaporated, much like the water in the fountains at the K if the continue to lay dormant for much longer.

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While I'm in defeatist-mode, I'm going to pile on with a bold dive this evening into the much-maligned "Southland Tales". If I do not post within a week, write me off as being dead.

Reasons I Dislike "Battlestar Galactica": Part One

This is the first in what I anticipate being a very lengthy series on why I am quite frankly irritated by the much-loved Sci-Fi series "Battlestar Galactica". For a show that has been as underwhelming to me as this one, I've seen more episodes that I'd like to have, leaving me with a bad taste that I cannot cleanse from my palette. So, to start this series I'll focus on one word, and one word only, just to get the ball rolling.

Frak

There is something about this word that I find absolutely infuriating. Everytime one of the characters sputters this expletive my blood pressure rises, my temple starts throbbing, and my teeth clench tighter than Cameron's asshole in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

I hate this word.

I hate everything it stands for.

And when I talk about what this stands for, I am referring to the writers having one word that can serve as a curse word. I am a big fan of cursing. There is an art to it. There's an artistry to John McClane's foul-mouthed repartee with Hans Gruber and his henchmen. Try to imagine The Big Lebowski without the 200-some F-bombs. Do you think Kevin Smith ever would have garnered an audience with PG-13 dialogue? It sure as shit didn't work when he tried it. And there's a simple beauty to how Elliott Smith works a gentle "fuck" into a song.

In designating "frak" as the seemingly universal curse word, the writers no longer have to look for creative ways to express anger or convey fear or show camaraderie. It is basically an invention to enable laziness.

Now, I don't want to mislead you into thinking that I'm just pissed because this show doesn't curse like "Deadwood". I don't have the expectation that everyone in every show has to run around calling everyone "fucking cocksuckers" while talking to heads in wooden boxes. There are, however, shows on broadcast television that have managed to be very creative when skirting the censors--a rim job joke on "Veronica Mars" springs to mind immediately, as does the last three seconds of the teaser for "The X-Files" episode Bad Blood. By making up one universal curse word, the pleasure of the writers having pulled one over on the censors is gone, having been replaced by one retarded sounding bastardization of the greatest word in the English language. And that's fucked up.

So now any quasi-nerd who spends his/her time reading up on whatever upcoming project is worthy of creaming one's pants over gets to scour message boards where BSG fans the world over have littered that God damn word all over the place.

The really sad thing is that this invention really just seems to be stealing outright from Joss Whedon and "Firefly" with the Chinese cursing as a way to get around to censorship, which was at least a little inventive and reflective of a Earth that had turned complete melting pot. Adding -ings and -er and -ed to a fake word is just lame.

Rediscovering the Past: A Whole Lot of Bible Man, More Importantly A Whole Lot More of Phoebe Cates

Over the past month or so, the minor premium cable channels have been running the 1982 gem Paradise.

(By the way, how retarded is the narration on that trailer?) Surprisingly, I didn't even know this film existed. If I were to summarize the film quickly, I'd say that it was a racier Blue Lagoon starring Phoebe Cates. That, to me, is a good thing. I know I personally prefer Phoebe Cates to Brooke Shields. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think she's much hotter*. If you want a good idea as to what to expect of this film, the first keyword on IMDB is "Female Nude Under Waterfall".

* At the very least hotter in 1980-1982. Probably still is. Kevin Kline is a lucky man.

Unfortunately, there are chimps in the film, and whenever they're on screen, there is music that you'd think was composed by a retarded carnie.

Also, Willie Aames is in the film. If you recall even a little bit of "Charles in Charge" you'll remember that he was no Laurence Olivier. In fact, to put him on the same level as even Christopher Atkins would probably be a disservice to Christopher Atkins. Basically, think Pauly Shore without the weasel shtick in a dramatic role set in the desert--with full frontal male nudity to go along with the massive amount of Phoebe Cates action.

So, if you were 15 and managed to miss this film (like I did), there's no time like the present, I guess.

And before you write this whole entry off, just remember the writer/director of Paradise, Stuart Gillard, also wrote and directed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III: Turtles In Time, so this clearly is high art.

What to expect in the near future...

You can look forward to at least a few posts about the Royals, although the subject matter has yet to be decided.

Be ready for the beginning of a long series on my reasons for disliking a much-loved television program.

A short entry on a little film that has been playing on the old cable channels that is a new favorite of mine for quasi-lurid reasons.

Fasten your seat-belts (and no, I'm not speaking in David Silver-code about condoms).

Mas Waits

So I made my weekly stop by Pitchfork to read one or two things that piqued my interest. Here is a Tom Waits interview conducted by Tom Waits.